


Night Creature

by Arianne



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: Age Difference, Consent Issues, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-22
Updated: 2013-04-22
Packaged: 2017-12-09 04:41:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/770092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arianne/pseuds/Arianne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Koumyou sleeps on his stomach. Ukoku's pretty sure he already knew that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night Creature

**Author's Note:**

> Written in May 2010, reposted to AO3 April 2013.

Koumyou sleeps on his stomach.

Ukoku's pretty sure he already knew that, but it's hard not to notice now. It's all he can see, a pile of sleeping Koumyou who's somehow already tossed off his covers. Ukoku can't even see his face, just all his hair. It's barely dry from his bath -- the long one he took in the early afternoon with Ukoku after he'd just arrived and was still filthy from the road. Except for a few wayward parts it's braided so stiffly it'd curl if Ukoku let it down. Kouryuu's doing, probably. Ukoku's washed Koumyou's hair for him a few times, and he's taken it down for his own benefit a few times, too, when he's felt like being able to get his hands in it. He knows exactly how Koumyou likes it, and it isn't like this. But it's dry enough to be bright and pale as the moon outside, and that's how Ukoku likes it. Idly, Ukoku wonders how many hours he let pass after he got carried away in his own work this afternoon -- it always happens -- since Koumyou looks like he's been sleeping a while. He looks comfortable where he is.

Well, he can stay there, if he wants. Ukoku's kind of in the mood to do all the work anyway. But he isn't going to waste his time at Kinzan.

He touches Koumyou at the small of his back. It's soft, at least the simple silk robe he sleeps in is. But his skin is, too, underneath. It hasn't been that long that Ukoku doesn't remember. He reaches for the belt keeping the robe loosely tied at the side of Koumyou's waist, intending to take it off.

"Again?" Koumyou says before he gets the chance. It comes out muffled and half-slurred, because he hasn't moved, and most of his face is still buried in the pillow.

"You weren't even sleeping, were you?" Ukoku counters, despite his surprise that Koumyou would speak up -- he's never complained when Ukoku felt like getting a little forceful with him, just the other way around. "You knew I'd come back." He moves his hand again after the moment's pause at being caught off-guard even though he should know better by now, and now lets it finish the motion. He ends up with it resting on Koumyou's hip, under the belt, and Koumyou's skin is so close to being there for his taking. It's cool to his touch, since he wasn't under the covers, and there's a breeze coming in from the windows that's nice and cool, for summer. He touches there and waits for a reaction, so he can push for more.

It's all he gets when Koumyou shifts part of his weight onto his side and turns his head to watch, but doesn't move or direct Ukoku's hand wherever he wants it, or between his legs where Ukoku wants it, or do much of anything at all. "You'd wake an old man up anyway," he states.

"You're not that old." Ukoku tells him just what he wants to hear, using the new position to press up against Koumyou with all his desire, to make sure Koumyou can feel how hard he is. He even surprised himself with just how easily he still got it up tonight. He blames having to just sit there and _look_ in that bath, since Koumyou had informed him he wasn't allowed to touch -- but then he said it so much like one of his sweetly stern commands to his students that it just made Ukoku hard. No wonder his mind started wandering away from his paperwork and onto what Koumyou would look like on his back and spread out all over his desk instead, fucked soft and dripping come and just ruined. Only practice lets him indulge himself in thinking about that while managing to keep up with the kind of banter Koumyou likes, and he somehow even keeps his voice light. "What were you saying when I got here? Forty is the new black?" 

"Something like that," he admits. Ukoku's heard him. It's exactly the kind of nonsense Koumyou's said ever since he hit forty a few years ago, and it's only gotten worse since his latest birthday. When he finally decides to get up for Ukoku, he exaggerates everything. Sure, Ukoku's noticed his joints crack sometimes, mostly in the mornings when he first gets up, but barely. They're not even doing it now. But he makes an effort out of it, and pushes himself first up on his elbows, then one to get on his side, and rolls. Ukoku moves with him, rubbing his cock against Koumyou's thigh -- and notices it's still hard with muscle, so he has even less to complain about. Still, once he's on his back, he holds out a hand and looks expectantly at Ukoku. Ukoku thinks about it, and against all his base desires decides not to play along. Maybe if he refuses Koumyou will push back. So he just stays there, rocking now, giving himself a little more pressure than he would need just to take the edge off.

"Stay, then. Go back to sleep. I'll do this while you rest your joints," Ukoku says, moving steadily. He could probably get himself off like this, if he did it a little harder and at least got Koumyou's hand down his pants. It isn't what he came for, but depending on how Koumyou takes it, it could be worth it.

"Ah, that isn't fair," Koumyou says. "What if I wanted to touch you?" Sitting up, he lets Ukoku slide off of him, settling down on his own side right next to where he had been lying. He finally twists around in a way that can't be comfortable, until he faces Ukoku. When he pulls his legs together under him and folds them so he can sit up fully -- another thing an old man's joints shouldn't be able to handle -- his robe drapes open in the front. Koumyou leaves it be, and more than wonder why, Ukoku just enjoys the view. Koumyou's still something to look at, however old he acts like he is. Ukoku hasn't actually seen him train since they traveled together years ago but he must still do it, and hard, to have that much lean muscle on him. Ukoku should look somewhere else, or at least try to make a secret out of leering, but with Koumyou on display right in front of him, he doesn't bother.

"You shouldn't stare," Koumyou says, faking modesty and covering his mouth like he's shocked or maybe embarrassed -- though as far as Ukoku knows, Koumyou's never been embarrassed in all his life. Ukoku rolls his eyes, grasps Koumyou's wrist to drag his hand away, and jerks him forward by it. When Koumyou catches Ukoku's shoulder with his other hand to balance himself, Ukoku uses the leverage and kisses him.

It starts out just like a normal kiss, not really much of anything like it is when Ukoku kisses other people, but as much as he tries, he can't keep his affection out of it. Koumyou is stubborn, and consciously refuses to give in. He plays, like he always does -- barely any pressure, touches of his tongue without ever following through and pushing in like Ukoku wants him to. Ukoku wraps his hand around the nape of Koumyou's neck, under his hair pulled into its braid, and drags him into himself. At that, Koumyou leans in and opens his mouth to Ukoku, but doesn't push back, just lets Ukoku take what he wants.

He leans farther and farther as they kiss, and Ukoku enjoys Koumyou's weight. He's much heavier and more solid than Ukoku used to expect, looking at him, and it feels good. Much better than some pretty boy would, he thinks bitterly. But he leans a little too far, this time, making Ukoku recline with him, and though Ukoku likes it, he knows he should be thinking, analyzing motives and coming up with plans of his own like he usually does -- and once he realizes it, Ukoku finds himself on his back, as usual when Koumyou's involved. If it's anything like the other times, it could still go either way. "You planned this," he accuses.

"I thought you planned it," Koumyou says, clicking his tongue once. "You came to take advantage of me in my sleep."

"I wanted to fuck you," Ukoku confesses. It’s almost true. Koumyou doesn't even pretend to balk at the vulgarity.

"Did you? I would've liked that," Koumyou says. Ukoku puts on a smug face, and shifts around, testing their positions, and he might as well try to start getting Koumyou underneath him -- it's always a process, though one that he doesn’t really mind. Koumyou refuses, that's the only word for it. He puts his legs on either side of Ukoku's and pins him, uses his weight to settle and make Ukoku barely comfortable. It's quick, and catches Ukoku off-guard, and Ukoku just can't help himself with that and all the pressure now on his cock. He moans, too loudly, and gets ready to push right back. Koumyou glares and then seizes his wrists, holding them immobile in one of his hands. He leans in close enough to kiss, and doesn't, just... looms, like he's proving his dominance, _fuck_. By now Ukoku can almost always tell the times when he means to play some kind of game before he lets Ukoku have his way, but he's never -- Ukoku's even asked him a few times to play rough with him, and he never would. The moment stretches out as Koumyou doesn't explain or ease up or even move, and it makes Ukoku want to moan. He knows his own strength, and this’d be a lot less interesting if he didn't.

Koumyou lets go of his wrists after they've shared a few deep breaths just like that, but the moment only diffuses when he looks away. Ukoku stretches his arms tentatively. His wrists feel fragile. He's going to bruise, and for days it's going to get him hard every single time he feels it, like it did that first goddamn day Koumyou ever touched him.

"So?" Ukoku manages to ask. He's going to come too soon if he doesn't get Koumyou out of this and back to his usual babbling self. He _is_ curious what his explanation will be, if he even has one. Well, one he'll admit.

"So I think I'll like this, too," is all he gives up, smiling sweetly.

Figures.

"Kiss me," Ukoku says, mostly to see if he'll do it again. It depends on how far he wants to take whatever game he's playing at. But Koumyou turns back facing him and leans in without waiting long enough to have thought about it, closing his eyes but opening his mouth. It's exactly what Ukoku wants. While Ukoku runs his fingertips up and down his back, Koumyou stretches out leisurely on top of him, balancing himself that way, with his legs long and outstretched and his elbows braced by Ukoku's head, careful not to capture and pull any of his hair -- knowing about that from long practice, Ukoku thinks lewdly. He lets it go on for what feels like ages, just kissing. He licks into Koumyou's mouth and pushes his hips up into him, into his cock that is, to his relief, as hard as Ukoku's own. Ukoku pulls away then -- it's easy, so much affection so tenderly and generously given, and this isn't what he expected at all after Koumyou pinned him like that. He never expects it. He wants to catch his breath. Meanwhile he just looks at Koumyou, who smiles like he could do this all night. Ukoku intends to make him.

"Again," he says, and Koumyou does it again, still slowly and even longer, and this time when he rocks his hips up, Koumyou moves with him. Ukoku brings his hands up from where they'd been stretched out over his head, still where Koumyou put them, and cups Koumyou's face. He won't have Koumyou going anywhere until he decides. If he wants to make out like teenagers -- and he didn't, but now it doesn't seem too bad -- he's going to make it happen. It's exactly the kind of indulgence to youth Koumyou might give into, besides, or maybe he's just doing what Ukoku wants regardless. It seems like it so far. Ukoku wants to keep trying it.

He loosens his grip keeping Koumyou's mouth on his, and sure enough, he moves as soon as he can. Ukoku means to complain, but when he opens his mouth he thinks it's probably just to thank him for ending the ruse before he got fooled into thinking... whatever Koumyou might make him think. He doesn't get so much as a sound out before Koumyou kisses his neck, warm and open-mouthed, then bites gently, then sucks -- and Ukoku just laughs, loud and deep, shaking Koumyou off.

Koumyou looks all around, with a ridiculously put-upon frown. "What's so funny?" He leans back in, just pressing his mouth to Ukoku's jawbone. "I thought this is what you wanted," he says between the teasing kisses, and Ukoku can feel his smile. Ukoku says nothing, just wraps his arms around Koumyou, like he would pull him closer. When Koumyou surrenders to it, Ukoku shoves him away.

Koumyou absorbs the force easily and rolls off him, but keeps one leg firmly between Ukoku's, tangling himself up. Koumyou's leg is bare, but Ukoku's still got his pants on, and most of his sanzo uniform on over that. He looks up and down Koumyou's body once, then one more time, and his arousal rages against Koumyou's thigh. "Take off your robe," Ukoku says, more of a very insistent question than a command.

Koumyou does. He makes a production out of it, first untying his belt that Ukoku had loosened when he was still pretending to sleep. Then he slips one sleeve off his shoulders, and the other, showing off all that pale skin maddeningly slowly. Ukoku shrugs out of his own clothes while he watches, only taking his eyes off Koumyou when he has to get his shirt off over his head. By the time Koumyou tosses the robe off completely, he's finished, kicked his clothes off the bedding, and set aside the bottle of lube he'd brought in his pocket. Not that he'd planned all this out, not really, whatever Koumyou might think. He's just learned by now to always have it on him, whenever he finds himself around Koumyou. He remembers why when he finally sees Koumyou stripped for the second time today. So he looks, and is relieved -- when he got tense, he's not sure -- because Koumyou's as hard as he is, and bigger than he'll ever be, and Ukoku needs to get him back close, but maybe right after a little teasing of his own.

Ukoku stretches out and reclines on the pillows Koumyou had propped up for sleeping, and spreads his legs. If he's not going to get Koumyou under him, that's alright. He thinks about asking Koumyou to ride him, and he probably would, but he hasn't been fucked for a long time, either, and he's missed it, and it could be a lot of fun with Koumyou in a mood. When he's got his thighs as far apart as he can -- and has made Koumyou's eyes go wide, hard as it is to surprise him with anything -- he reaches down between them. He takes hold of his cock, just barely stroking until he won't be able to control himself anymore if he doesn't stop, yet Koumyou sits still. So he goes further, takes his balls in his hand and lifts them, showing off his ass and his thighs and his hole between them, utterly shameless -- Koumyou's the only man who could make him feel shame, and never for this. He looks Koumyou in the eye, and tells him, "Come here."

Koumyou crawls over and kisses him, not painfully hard but firm. It's so easy for him to do it. Ukoku moans. Koumyou kisses him silent.

"What did you bring me?" he asks.

"Here," Ukoku says, tilting his head toward where he set the lube aside. Koumyou stretches over to reach for it, and out of the corner of his eye Ukoku watches him close his fingers tightly around it. He likes those fingers inside him but he doesn't want to wait, and doesn't care that it'd hurt. He slips his glasses off and tosses them aside with his clothes. He won't need them now, not with Koumyou settling between his legs.

It's too hot. This is already more than he thought he'd get tonight, and he doesn’t think he can stand waiting. "You don't have to stretch me or anything. Just fuck me."

Koumyou lowers his hand undeterred. "How long has it been?" He teases Ukoku with his fingertips, slick and cool, but doesn't push in.

"Just you," Ukoku says as an answer. It's been a couple months, maybe half a year, since Koumyou last fucked him, and he can feel how tight he is, all the resistance that he wishes he could control. Koumyou can -- he can make him feel whatever he wants. And Ukoku's breath catches when he takes that right, and pushes one of those teasing fingers all the way inside. It's barely a stretch and unbearably gentle, and Ukoku wants to complain and ask for more but Koumyou curls that damn finger inside him, hard, before he can. It's not enough, but it's too good for what it is. He can't keep his hips still.

"It's no fun for me if I'm forcing you," Koumyou murmurs in response to nothing, all the more solemn because he could force Ukoku into anything, at this moment or whenever he wanted.

"You aren't," Ukoku says, "you aren't," but then he's thinking about how it'd be if he did, now that he’s said it. Just like he's dreamed about when he's trying to make his own hand feel a little more interesting. Like he dreamed about that first day in his cell when he had to get himself off to Koumyou’s voice through the door and the ache in his wrist just made it hotter. He's going to keep asking, anything for Koumyou to shove him around and push him to the floor and hold him there and make it hurt, and pretend he doesn't care that it's exactly what Ukoku wants. It's hot, and Koumyou would never do it. So he'll ask, someday. But not today, because today, right now, all of Koumyou's attention is on him. Ukoku's still amazed how he can do that.

Koumyou takes his hand away, only to return it seconds later, dripping, pushing the lube in as far as he can reach with two fingers that are more but still barely open him up. "Now," Ukoku says, despite how good it might be. It'll get better.

This time Koumyou does what Ukoku says. Ukoku can't see much anymore, without his glasses, but can feel him moving between his legs, can hear him stroking his own cock first to make it wet, and maybe a little more after that. Ukoku's been even less sure than usual who's in control here, but right now he still thinks it's him. He lifts his knees further, an invitation. Koumyou takes it.

He finally enters in one excruciatingly long stroke. Against his will, Ukoku clenches as he does, and Koumyou pushes through, insistent but far gentler than Ukoku could ever be. It still hurts -- he forgets, somehow, just how Koumyou feels inside him when they don't do this. Even that first year when they were traveling, and he got fucked so often it felt like he was always still sore from the last time, he'd forget, just like he can forget Koumyou's voice after going just a few hours without hearing it. But now and then alike he asked for this, to be overwhelmed by all the sensation forced on him, by feeling so open, by Koumyou as he settles his weight back on top of him. Ukoku can never stay hard when he's being fucked, not at that first uncontrollable, aching penetration, but it's good as it is. Sometimes Koumyou rubs his back, but he's on his back tonight. Maybe he'll flash his rank to ditch his kid and get himself some alone time in the baths tomorrow morning. Maybe he can get Koumyou to join him there. It doesn't matter.

Koumyou comes to rest, after a minute of gentle pushing, deep inside Ukoku. He can only takes the stillness for a few seconds until almost everything becomes about the length inside him, and his muscles trying to push against the way Koumyou is just barely rocking inside, so tender, so frustrating. "Move," Ukoku says, either an order or a plea. Koumyou can take it any way he wants, as long as he does it.

"I will," Koumyou promises. "Wait."

"Why?" Ukoku asks, his gaze fixed on Koumyou, who stares right back. He doesn't know when the power shifted like this, but he just swallows, and concentrates. He isn't too far gone that he can't still think well enough to fuck with him, he hopes. "Won't fuck me like I want? Balls-deep inside me and still playing games?" he purrs, trying it.

After a long, silent moment, Koumyou looks down, and smiles.

Without any more warning than that, Koumyou closes his hand around Ukoku's cock, still only half-hard, and strokes. Ukoku shudders and squirms around Koumyou inside him. "I don't need that," Ukoku protests, "it'll get better," even as he can feel his physical desire surge and his blood rush to help him get hard again. Koumyou knows what he's doing, and Ukoku's still young enough that it doesn't take any longer than that. This _is_ better, being able to feel the discomfort overcome by pleasure so quickly, and if Koumyou keeps that pressure just right inside him, he'll be able to come like this. He thinks.

On his next breath, quick and shallow now, Koumyou stops rocking his hips, and thrusts. It hits one good spot or another -- Koumyou knows them better than Ukoku himself -- and his cock drips, proof of just how aroused he is. Koumyou does it again. Ukoku had been silent, but he moans then, and wants to mutter nonsense but just shuts up, words forced out of him, thoughts ready to go next. Koumyou is forceful, lets him have his pleasure but makes him work for it, fills him until there's no space left. He'd never tell Koumyou -- it'd go straight to his head -- but he can't get enough of the feeling -- this feeling, being out of control and being made to feel so much that he doesn't have to think about it, doesn't want to, just wants to come, does it, Koumyou's hand still stroking him and Ukoku's joining it to make him go faster in those last few seconds when he needs it the most and Koumyou just _knows_ , and he's spilling over both of them and coming like that, good and for a while, it's enough.

Koumyou already knows all that, anyway, he realizes as he lies still in the aftermath.

He feels boneless and relaxed, slowing his breath deliberately, and his mind just feels lazy, like he could keep up with Koumyou now if he wanted to, but he'd rather not. Koumyou's still inside him, hard and keeping him open and just rocking there, in so deep. It makes Ukoku ache, except now it's closer to pain than the aching pressure he felt when he was first opened up. "Let me up," he says like his orders still mean anything, pawing at Koumyou's shoulders. He notices his own come on his hand, and wants Koumyou to lick it off. Now that's an idea. Koumyou should come first, so he can lick that up, too. "I'll suck you off," he offers, putting on a crooked smile.

"No," Koumyou says, pins him by the shoulders, and thrusts. That's it. Ukoku gasps in surprise, fading into a weak sound when Koumyou presses on a spot that was so good a minute ago, and Ukoku tenses up everywhere and that pushes the last drops of his come right out of his cock. But now -- it's not bad, exactly, but it isn't good. It's too much, it hurts, and he only wants everything taken out of him. Ukoku arches with the thrusts helplessly. Koumyou just takes what he wants.

"Enough," Ukoku finds himself saying, "please, enough."

"Not yet."

And he knows -- somehow, he knows, this is exactly it, not what Ukoku thought he wanted but what he needs, and he's demanding, taking his pleasure while Ukoku just takes it, soft and full and so, so sore. He's relaxed and stretched out and every muscle feels forced open. He wonders if Koumyou will come in him or on him, and wants to wear it either way. Both ways.

He needs. Koumyou doesn't. Ukoku sees him even without his glasses, and watches him looking down at him, eyes wide open. He feels Koumyou sitting up now, holding his hip with one hand and lifting underneath his knee with the other, his rhythm pounding and steady. It could go on for a minute or an hour. He can't think. Koumyou's won, and he didn't know it was even a contest. He has to react, can't reach Koumyou to touch him but can't just lie there, so he curls in and tries. Koumyou's heavy inside him, and it's hard to move even that small way.

"Is it too much?"

"No," Ukoku lies.

"Mmm, that's good," Koumyou goes on in his fucking gentle voice, always deep but so rough right now. "You just came so quickly. You’re so young." He's started stroking Ukoku's chest -- hairless, he'd never even cared before but he is so young -- with one hand. The same hand that was bruising his hip, the same hand that Ukoku's come was -- still is -- all over. Ukoku arches into it. He keeps stroking, up to Ukoku's face.

He makes a soft contemplative sound, then puts four whole fingers in Ukoku's mouth at once. Ukoku hadn't noticed when he let up on his thrusts but now he starts again. The first one jars Ukoku, and so does the second.

"Make them wet," Koumyou instructs. "I'm going to put them inside you."

He never talks like that. Ukoku sucks his fingers desperately, tonguing the tip of each one. It's too tight to lick them one by one like Koumyou likes. It tastes like his come more than anything else. The thrusts jar him, and he’s afraid he’s going to bite down and this will end. He tries to wrap his legs around Koumyou’s waist, just to let him do it harder.

He takes his time before he takes his hand back and leaves Ukoku’s mouth empty. He's more sore than he can remember being. He always comes so quickly but usually Koumyou does too, or will ride him if Ukoku can get it up again, or give him his cock to suck on if he can't. Not just keep going and tease him with wet fingertips down his body, stroking his cock once and settling right where Koumyou’s cock is already keeping him full.

With those same fingertips, Koumyou pushes. Ukoku wants to panic. It's too tight, not nearly slick enough, he can't, he's full already, it hurts -- one fingertip, just one, slides inside and he can't stop it, one fingertip on Koumyou's fucking delicate hands, forces his muscles apart more than he can stand. He can't come again this soon, he just can't, but he wants to, he can feel it in his balls, that and the awful stretch in his ass, and it's all he can feel.

"Ukoku," he hears distantly. He doesn't respond, can't. Then, more clearly, "Ken'yuu." It's Koumyou's firm voice from earlier. Ukoku meets his eyes, and they're dead serious. "Do you trust me?" Koumyou asks.

"Yes," he says. He hopes.

He comes to his senses again a moment later when Koumyou kisses him once, and relief rushes through him when some of the pressure lets up inside. Koumyou must've finally come, because he's calm, eyes closed, and his hand is out and just petting Ukoku's thigh. Koumyou rocks backward and pulls out before Ukoku can come down from the ache too much, and it's still sore. He can feel Koumyou's lips back kissing him, and -- he moans -- Koumyou's fingers, just playing with his hole, raw and spread apart. He's taken so much. Ukoku moans and tries to stretch into the soreness.

But it’s – it’s gentle, now, just playing, not trying to take anything from him. Koumyou likes to play with him, with his mouth, with his hole after he's had it. This and the kisses and Koumyou’s warm body – it feels good. His cock is hard again, but he doesn’t think he has to come. He doesn’t have to think about anything.

“No,” he says when all he feels is Koumyou lifting himself off and leaving him.

“Shh,” he hears, and then Koumyou’s got his tongue on the head of his cock.

He loses himself in the attention, and Koumyou – so many of Koumyou’s fingers curling inside where it’s perfect or his fingertips light on the edge of his hole, his mouth just kissing him on the side of his cock and his balls and then taking them in his mouth, everything so gentle, so generous – and he looks because he wants to watch this, if it’s as hot as it feels, and it’s better, because Koumyou didn’t come before and he's stroking himself off, Ukoku can watch his shoulder moving, watch him get off on watching _him_.

“Come here,” Ukoku murmurs, looking down with eyes as heavy as Koumyou’s, and holding out his hand. “I want—” and he doesn’t finish, because Koumyou’s already coming in his own hand, and the look on his face is gorgeous for just a second before he goes back to Ukoku, _fuck_.

“Please,” Ukoku says for nothing at all, and Koumyou -- done, sated, Ukoku’s so jealous, he _wants_ \-- Koumyou gives him his hand, and Ukoku takes it right into his mouth, four fingers again and he’s so full and he sucks anyway and _Koumyou_ moans, right on his cock, and finally, aching, he gives it up again.

Ukoku rolls onto his side as soon as Koumyou lets him go, mercifully quick. Koumyou pats his shoulder, and then his presence against Ukoku’s back is gone. That’s it, Ukoku thinks. Koumyou’s given him so much attention tonight. But he doesn’t hear the door or even footsteps, just Koumyou crawling across the little room and pouring water out of the pitcher in the corner. Ukoku reaches out for his glasses, moving so stiffly he’s glad they’re close. With them on he can see Koumyou wringing out a cloth, then coming back.

Koumyou cleans him. Usually Ukoku does this himself, but the cool cloth is nice and so is not having to think about getting up for a few more minutes until he’ll have to go back to his own room. He doesn't know what to say. Koumyou doesn't apologize for anything, and Ukoku wouldn't want him to.

"How was that?" he asks gently when he’s finished with both Ukoku and himself, like he could be asking about tonight’s dinner. He drapes his sleeping robe back on over his shoulders, but only ties it loosely.

“Want something to drink,” is Ukoku’s reply, and it makes Koumyou chuckle. He goes back to the corner with the water pitcher first and pours a glass, and then shifts over to the one with the loose floorboard where he keeps the smokes and alcohol that all the others pretend not to know about. He bends down and sets the water next to Ukoku, still content to lie in bed for once.

“Where are you going?” Ukoku asks between gulps of water when he stands again, sake and cups in hand.

“Outside to drink, of course. It’s a nice night, isn’t it?” He turns and slides the door open, and the breeze filters in from the porch. “Yes, it is. Aren’t you coming?” he asks, tilting his head.

“At this time of night?” Ukoku never found out exactly what time he came in here, and couldn’t even guess how long Koumyou fucked him.

“Sunrise is in a couple hours. Keep me company until then.”

“Don't you want to sleep?” Ukoku can’t remember the last time they actually slept together, but if Ukoku’s staying here – and he’s not moving until Koumyou leaves him -- he might as well.

Koumyou tilts his head, his small smile even brighter than usual. “I believe I tried, and a terrible night creature came for me.”

“Wake me up in an hour,” Ukoku bargains, with every limb heavy and now his eyes growing tired, too. He slips his glasses off again, and feels around until he can find the covers to pull over himself. It really is cool out there, without the sun that Koumyou says has been warming even the mornings lately.

“Just a cat nap, then,” Koumyou says cheerfully. Closing his eyes, Ukoku can hear Koumyou settle down on the porch outside, leaving the door open.

Just a nap, then he’ll go sit and drink or stargaze or make out or whatever Koumyou would like him to do. He never wants to sleep so badly. Most days he hates even needing to. But he’s warm and sore and he can sense Koumyou turning around just to look at him and his mind, for once, is calm. He doesn’t think he’ll even dream.


End file.
